


occurrences

by dwyndling



Category: Compilation of Final Fantasy VII, Final Fantasy VII Remake (Video Game 2020)
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/F, Final Fantasy VII Remake Spoilers, Missing Scene, Mutual Pining, Pre-Relationship, Welcome aboard the SS Gaymood, aerti real actually, sapphic noises intensify
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:26:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24647923
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dwyndling/pseuds/dwyndling
Summary: Aerith is...odd. She's kind, but mischievous. Delicate, yet unabashed. Sweet, flirty, compassionate...and an enigma that Tifa can't quite seem to solve.
Relationships: Aerith Gainsborough & Tifa Lockhart, Aerith Gainsborough/Tifa Lockhart
Comments: 9
Kudos: 145





	occurrences

**Author's Note:**

> A birthday gift for a very dear friend. ♡

The night...was not supposed to go like this. 

“Hey, Tifa! How you doing?”

The woman who stands before her is somewhat diminutive, willowy in a way that even the ruffled crimson dress can’t disguise. Her cheeks are flushed, or maybe it’s just the makeup. It’s been applied with enough graceful subtlety that makes Tifa feel like her own work on her face, hunched over next to the grimy bathroom mirror, is hopelessly lacking. 

Maybe it’s the brightness in the other girl’s face, or maybe it’s the residual sleeping gas that has her stuttering over her response. Either way, it’s hard to imagine that, whoever she is, this girl isn’t  _ used _ to people tripping over their words at the sight of her.

Either way, it earns her a smile. “Oh! Right.” Rose painted lips curl upwards. “I’m Aerith, a friend of Cloud’s.” She’s barreling on before Tifa can even begin to unpack that statement and all of its various connotations. “We were worried, and thought we’d come help you out!”

It’s been...what, three or four hours since Cloud had approached her on the road coming in from Sector 7? What on Gaia happened in that short amount of time that resulted in him, here, wearing a  _ corset, _ and with a girl who looks like she walked off a movie poster from the upper plate?

“Um...thanks?” Some rational part of her brain registers that it’s probably not the most polite thing in the world to sound so unsure when they’ve kindly come to check on her. Even if...the reasons ‘why’ and ‘how’ are beginning to feel like they’ll beggar belief.

Cloud interjects, in his usual business-like manner, and it’s with a slight sinking feeling that Tifa divulges her plan. Surely, Cloud will see sense and understand that it  _ has _ to happen this way. It could spell disaster for Avalanche if they leave a mess behind here...and Cloud’s hardly known for his subtlety.

“Well then your worries are over, because the other two candidates are right here!” Aerith’s cheery tone echoes oddly off the walls of the stone basement.

_ W...what? _

Cloud turning away, cheekbones flushed pink in embarrassment, is enough of a confession as any, and Tifa feels a pleased warmth in the base of her chest, along with a helpless spark of amusement. 

So. He does care.

It feels wrong to puncture a hole in Aerith’s bright spark, even as she tries to explain to the other girl that Avalanche’s business is a dangerous business indeed. 

Ultimately, it is futile, as Cloud remarks on with a sort of grim resignation on his pretty face. Aerith’s smile is not in the least bit dimmer, even as she gives Cloud a playful smack on one silken clad shoulder. Her hair, which falls like a chestnut waterfall down her bare back and almost down to her knees, sways with the motion.

It’s a strange sight, and Tifa finds she cannot tear her eyes away from it.

**♡♡♡**

It’s clear that the Don’s goons have no idea what they’ve walked right into. 

“So ladies, ready to...get to it?”

Aerith turns her gleaming smile onto their leader, and her voice is no less chipper than Tifa’s heard it so far. “I guess I’m good to go whenever!” A smile spreads across the man’s face but Aerith ignores it, and suddenly that acute brightness is turned towards her. “How about you Tifa?”

“Hmm…” She casts her eyes around the room, around the men with overly assured smarmy grins on their faces. “Four guys between us...alright.” Casting her gaze over to Aerith, it’s with a certain satisfaction she notes that the other girl’s eyes carry the same sparkling fire within. “Let’s not keep Cloud waiting.”

Aerith’s chirp of approval is the only signal they need, and as one, they turn to the audience. A familiar thrumming rises up in her blood, and Tifa exhales. There’s a sharp sting of nervousness at the edge of her awareness, a sudden worry for the other woman,  _ she’s _ not a trained combatant, it’s clear by her physique, she’s-

Most of her worries fly out the window, as Aerith’s slender leg kicks up and jabs the leader right in the nuts with zero hesitation. 

The thrill of movement takes up several precious moments as Tifa’s feet and fists connect with those unfortunate enough to be in her path. There’s the combined noise of a howl of fear and a delighted giggle from across the room, and out of the corner of her eye, Tifa sees the silver flash of a folding chair meeting the head of a very unfortunate man. 

The last one goes down in the moment after, and the reverberation of the punch courses through her fist a moment longer. Shaking it off, she turns and meets Aerith’s eyes, shining emerald and wide in appreciation.

The man who came in contact with the chair doesn’t look like he’ll be getting up anytime soon, and Tifa can’t hold back a smile. “Good job Aerith!”

It didn’t seem at all possible that Aerith’s grin could get wider, but her expression blossoms at the praise. “It was nothing compared to you!” She pantomimes a few punches, and it’s so strangely adorable that Tifa feels something inside her chest twinge. 

Aerith simply giggles and Tifa hears herself join in, their hands brushing in their air for a celebratory high five. 

The other girl’s hands are lightly callused, and it begs the question as to why. Her hands aren’t quite hardened enough for any hard combat experience, but it’s hard to imagine that a girl who looks like the cover of a book of fairytales spends much time doing hard labor...hmm. 

One of the younger henchmen delivers their and Cloud’s gear. Tifa gladly slips out of the dress she’d worn, pretty as it was, and into the more familiar feel of her everyday wear.

More out of unfamiliarity than awkwardness, she keeps her eyes averted as Aerith changes too, the red silk falling away and being replaced with a pale pink sundress and short jacket, along with some dusty black hiking boots. Like this, she looks less like a princess and more like a…

...hm. It’s strangely hard to describe. Regardless, it’s hard to miss the way Aerith’s gaze takes in the sight of her bared abdomen appreciatively, once she turns around. 

Before she can think much of it, the other girl enlists her to help with her hair, and it’s certainly not easy to undo the pins and bows and curls that made up the veritable waterfall of hair pouring down Aerith’s back. 

“How long did it take…” Tifa bites her lower lip as she tries to work a bobby pin out of a particularly well secured loop. “To do all this?”

Aerith makes a considering sound from where she’s working a red flower-shaped clip out of the ends. “Oh...an hour or so? And that was just the hair!”

Her brows knit together at the center of her forehead. “You two must’ve been busy...all this just to sneak into the Don’s manor?” It’s difficult to imagine that all this effort was for  _ her. _ Maybe Aerith has some other business to take care of here tonight...there must be plenty of people who’d like the chance to get this far into his estate, for whatever purpose.

“Of course!” Aerith glances over her shoulder, a blithe smile on her face as Tifa eases out the last of the bobby pins. “Like I said before, we were worried about you.”

“I…” A variety of questions spring to mind, but none that feel important enough to speak aloud. “I see. Well.” She busies herself adjusting her vambraces. “I’m certainly glad you did, but…”

Before she can continue, that cheerful voice is already cutting in. “No buts! Let’s go rescue Cloud, get what you need, and then…” Carefully, much more carefully than she’d handled any of the various baubles she’d tugged out of her hair, Aerith adjusts the pale pink bow at the back of her head. 

She turns to Tifa’s waiting stare, and  _ winks. _ “We’ll talk after!”

It’s all Tifa can do to nod back in bemusement. And that, as it were, was that.

**♡♡♡**

The night, which had been on an upward turn ever since she’d gotten the opportunity to see Cloud blush from underneath a thick layer of makeup and unintentionally flutter inky black eyelashes at her, quickly derails from that point on.

The fight against Corneo’s monster in the sewer system felt like the montage of a dream, something not quite real and not quite present. Maybe it’s the nonstop thudding in her chest, the icy panic that has been flooding her veins and refusing to let go.

_ It’ll be Sector 6 all over again. _

By the time they’ve been walking for fifteen minutes, she’s almost convinced herself that what the Don said was a lie. It  _ had _ to be. There’s no way. There’s just no way...right?

It’s with a heavy heart that the words find their way out of her mouth, and into the damp and dank air. Even as Aerith echoes the concern, her eyes look far away, caught between something far off and watching Tifa worriedly.

“It’s gotta be a trick...there’s no way they’d go that far. But…”

A stone sinks into the pit of Tifa’s gut, and the ice trickling through her bloodflow turns it even more ashen.

“But what if Corneo really was telling the truth? We have to get there in time to stop it.” Her eyes meet Aerith’s, and the other girl’s face is twisted in concern. “We  _ have _ to.”

There’s no bubbliness or optimism to meet the sentiment, and instead, the stone in Tifa’s gut becomes a few pounds heavier as Aerith drops her eyes, gaze falling to the worn concrete beneath their feet.

“...right.”

“Aerith?” Something in Tifa’s throat tightens. “What are you not telling me?” 

Aerith starts, and her green eyes grow wide at the accusation. “Huh?” She blinks rapidly, and whatever is under her expression, Tifa can’t quite pinpoint what it is.

“Guys!” Cloud, beckoning them from the other side of the walkway, is completely oblivious to the conversation. “C’mon. We gotta keep moving!”

Forcibly, Tifa pushes the feeling from her throat, and allows a tight smile at Aerith. They do have to keep moving, whatever they answer is. They have to keep going forward, and they have to be quick. 

They  _ have _ to.

It hardly serves to settle her gut when Aerith’s step falters, as the water beneath her begins to slosh and sway in increasingly alarming motions. The woman cries out, and not a moment later the plate below her shifts, leaning precariously. 

Cloud yells, and Aerith leaps forward as best she can, into the waiting circle of Tifa’s arms. She seems steady enough, and didn’t land wrong on anything, so it’s with a relieved sigh that Tifa lets her go. 

It’s funny...how  _ fresh _ Aerith smells, here among the dank and foul odours of the sewers. Like a bottle of the best perfume you could buy above plate, and clean clothes and something...more.

Just who is this girl, and how did Cloud meet her? The curiosity tugs at the corners of her mind, and it takes a great deal of Tifa’s finely honed self-control to force it aside.

_ Onward and upwards.  _

“The future isn’t...set in stone.” Aerith’s voice echoes clearly against the concrete walls, once again cheerful. “That’s what I always tell myself.”

There’s...a certain melancholia to the words, like it’s something Aerith is indeed saying more for herself than for Tifa or Cloud. Or...maybe Tifa’s just imagining things.

“Yeah...I hope you’re right.” With an exhale, the rock in her stomach shifts a little, a little less heavy, a little less cold.

“How ‘bout this then?” Aerith twirls to face her, with a tiny smile. “Think of something fun. After saving Sector 7, you’re gonna…”

Saving Sector 7...hm. The anxiety claws higher at the very sound of those words, but Tifa shoves it down all the same. 

“I’m gonna…”

_ It’s been awhile since I’ve thought of things like these. _

“Go shopping--Topside! I’ll buy…” She turns to Aerith, who’s smiling widely. “Stuff for the bar! Decorations, coasters…”

It’s true. Good old Seventh Heaven could always use a facelift, and in light of the bombings and unrest, it might be good for the people to have a little novelty.

Aerith’s eyes sparkle at the prospect. “Can I come?” 

The small smile that stretches over her features at the question is entirely on instinct. “You’d better!” 

Those rosy lips curve into a brilliant smile. “Then it’s a date!”

A laugh bubbles out of her at Aerith’s blithe tone. For a moment, the sinking feeling had been almost gone entirely, replaced with the flush of hope and courage.

It’s fine. They’ll get to Sector 7 in time. They will.

After all, Tifa has a shopping date above the plate now.

**♡♡♡**

Air whirls around her, its touch light and fresh after the horridness of the sewers. The plate-suns are turned off as they should be, but there is a far away sense of activity from the direction of the support pillar. Tifa finds she can’t look away from it, looming in the distance like a spire of warning.

It’s probably just her nerves. It’s  _ hopefully _ just her nerves.

The whirring of helicopters above only serves to mimic the buzzing in her veins, something that racks her body with internal shivers and refuses to abate. 

“Just on patrol.” Cloud’s quick to dismiss the airborne activity, but there’s a certain tightness around his bright eyes. He strides forward before Tifa can say anything in response. 

Aerith gives a quick exhale before turning to look at her, clasping her hands over her chest. “Don’t worry.” There’s something about the way the lights flicker over the green of her eyes that makes the buzzing in Tifa’s ears rise to a fever pitch. “We’ll make it in time.”

_ Inhale. Exhale. _

She forces herself to nod in response, make a small noise of agreement, but oddly enough the smile she calls to her face feels less forced than it might’ve been.

_ Aerith...how are you so easily able to comfort those around you? Even Cloud looks less like a skittish cat when you talk to him. _

But there is no time for such thoughts. Onwards and upwards.

...the air of this place makes gooseflesh arise on her skin, creeping across her shoulders and encircling her ribs. Whispers of ghosts and spirits from the mouths of the Sector 7 townsfolk trickle through her mind, stories told from barstools and at warm tables seeming much more real than they had before.

_ They say that the Train Graveyard is...haunted. _

When she shares the fact, even Aerith looks a bit spooked. Cloud gives no visible reaction, other than slight scorn, but it’s hard to miss the way his hand keeps twitching towards the handle of his broadsword.

The trek continues forward, mostly in silence other than the creaking of the metal below them as they cross over yet another empty train car.

From out of nowhere, a door  _ slams _ shut, and Tifa hears herself cry out. It’s only a handful of monsters, camping out in an abandoned building, but her blood pressure continues to rise once their remains have already drifted into nothingness. 

_ Onwards...and upwards. _

“Guys...?”

Like luminous spray paint, childish scrawl uncurls itself across the side of the abandoned station, glowing sickly violet and blinding white into the darkness.

Tifa’s stomach hurtles into her throat.

To her side, Aerith makes a humming noise. “‘Come on’, huh?” She sounds more intrigued than should be fair, with none of the coiling fear coursing through Tifa evident in the other girl’s tone. “Well that’s...inviting.”

How is she...where does she find the courage? Not for the first time, and probably not for the last, the question of  _ who is this girl _ courses through Tifa’s mind. 

Who is she and where does she come from, that she is sculpted like the finest delicate flower, and yet looks death and danger in the eye with a cheerful smile and a wink?

It’s hard, to keep both her voice and her knees from shaking, as more of the unearthly graffiti reveals itself, and they walk through the station door emblazoned with a grisly representation of a saw blade.

“Found you.”

Tifa starts, and watches with wide eyes as Aerith paces towards a fallen storage container, bending to look round the edge. Her face creases in a small smile. 

“Hey...can we talk? Just for a bit?”

A wavering and translucent form of a human child steps out from around the edge, and Tifa’s breath hitches in her throat. 

_ N...not ghosts. Anything but ghosts. _

The ghost - and that’s surely what it must be, gods be forsaken - rises into the air and  _ shifts, _ pale luminescence coiling into a form made of burlap and glistening thread. A face is painted on in cruel mockery of human features, something from the pages of one of Marlene’s storybooks.

Tifa skitters backwards, and next to her even Cloud makes a hitched sound of astonishment, hand twitching for his sword again.

Aerith’s smile only widens.

And then where there was one ghost there are now two, and the night only devolves from there. The boil of a fight works to cancel out the chill, but only for so long as her hands and feet are doing the talking for her. When the stillness returns, so too does the ice.

Thinking back on it after the fact, it’s a blurry mess of neon and dark shapeless shadows and creeping chills and the acrid taste of  _ fear. _ It makes Tifa’s stomach churn to think of it.

And then there is Aerith. Unphased by the creatures swirling around them like oversized and undead bugs. Utterly composed in the light of whatever dark secrets the Train Graveyard has been keeping all this time.

She tugs Tifa behind her without a second thought, shielding her with a slender frame in a pink sundress and all the courage of a behemoth. And so shaken is Tifa that she lets her, allows herself to cower behind someone with a fraction of her muscle mass and all the bravery that she has never really had.

They are torn apart when the chaos in the control room continues to build, desks and monitors whipping around in an unnatural wind. Cloud pulls her to the side of the room after a well timed rafter is punted at their heads, and they dodge to the side.

When she raises her eyes, Aerith is standing in the center of it all, amidst the swirling creatures and odd sparkling that seems to trail behind them. Her hands are clasped over her chest, and her lips form words that Tifa can’t quite catch.

_ She’s...radiant. _

It’s not the first time the thought has been there, but it’s the first time it’s shaped itself into words. Aerith  _ is _ radiant, standing unruffled in the center of a crescendo malevolence, calm face lit up by the undead glow of the room.

The battle swells into an allegro, and all other thoughts fade into the back of Tifa’s mind.

Seeing the vision of Marlene makes the swelling tide of electricity at the back of her neck seize up much more potently than before, cresting into a wash of anxiety. Her heart is racing, her skin crawls with the unknown, and there is a thudding in her ribcage that simply won’t go away.

...the voices filtering in through the static of the old radio only confirm her worst fears.

Cloud and Aerith each try to comfort her, in their own ways. Aerith’s focused optimism and Cloud’s stoic faith resound like trumpets, washing over her like waves. 

It stills the hammering of her heart just a touch. Just enough to shoulder Atlas’s burden and soldier forward. 

_ Onwards and upwards and faster and faster. Faster. Faster. _

_ Thereisnotime. _

They hurry forward, and everyone’s faces are a little more tense. The air seems a little more brisk, and the gooseflesh on her body almost  _ burns. _

Inhale.

Exhale.

They will make it in time. They have to.

...the ghosts seem to think otherwise, as the three of them cross into the lot that leads back towards Sector 7. In one moment, the ragged fiends swirl around them, clogging the air with their sonorous fog. They swish against the air, descending rapidly in a blaze of black fog and dim sparkles. Aerith cries out, and Cloud reaches for her desperately.

In the next moment, Aerith is gone, and the two of them are alone in the lot. 

The pressure in Tifa’s chest hardens suddenly, and it becomes somewhat difficult to breathe. She staggers forward, past where Cloud is kneeling in disbelief, and stares down at the concrete where Aerith disappeared into it.

It is silent, as the two of them slowly process the disbelief. Cloud stands, sinuous, with a look of impending doom on his features for those that have interfered. 

Their progress backtracking through the graveyard is tedious and nerve wracking. It’s as though the shivering has traced it’s way down Tifa’s arms and into her wrists to the point where her hands refuse to stop shaking.

“I’m sure she’s fine.” Cloud’s voice has ring to it like steel, even if everything else about his tone belies the words. “She’s a lot tougher than she looks.” His eyes are roving over the path in front of him, searching for that hint of a red jacket, for the peek of a pale pink hair bow.

“...right.” Her voice comes out as barely more than a whisper.

What is it that’s affecting her so? Maybe it’s the nerves. The tension. The knowledge that Shinra is plotting their death and the deaths of so many others, and that death is hanging  _ directly over their heads. _

Or maybe, it’s the confusion as to why  _ that _ concern fades away slightly, falling away to be replaced at the forefront of her mind with the bleating panic screaming to  _ Find Aerith. _

“Tifa.” 

She jerks her head upwards to meet Cloud’s look of...concern? “Are you…” Her friend’s voice trails away, and a look of frustration colors his features, as though he had begun a question but did not know how to end it.

Every inhale and exhale feels a little bit harder to breathe through with every passing second, but Tifa does the best she physically can. “Cloud…?” She keeps moving forward, brushing past him. “We can talk after we-”

_ There. _

The whispery sounds of sobs, faint, but still there all the same.

Cloud starts, somewhat violently, and takes off at a run. Tifa follows as quickly as she can, feet thudding into the concrete when…

_ Thudding...thudding...behind…? _

“Cloud!!” She gives a yell of warning before  _ something _ bursts out of the storage crates behind them, yells like a banshee, and takes off in the direction that Cloud’s been heading. 

The thudding hooves of a horse...or something very much trying to be.

The next few moments are lost to chaos, to fighting off something that isn’t quite there while Cloud sprints on ahead, and it’s to Tifa’s mingled relief and fear that he yells out Aerith’s name.

The shadowy blur has moved on in the next instant, and Tifa jogs to the sound of voices, crouching down to where Aerith is knelt on the ground. She reaches out, and gently lays a hand on the curve of Aerith’s shoulder.

“Hey.”

Aerith turns to her, eyes wide, and for the first time that evening, there seems to be a trace of real fear. Or something...very similar to it.

“We found you.” Her lips curve into a smile, as Aerith’s eyes only widen further. Extending her a hand up, Tifa allows relief to wash over her like a blanket.

_ We found her. _

The plate ceases to matter, the nearby sound of helicopters and the buzz of gunshots from close by cease to matter, as Aerith smiles. 

It’s not one of her bright and wide smiles, or even the smaller ones that spell mischief. It’s tiny, and wan, and Tifa feels her heart give a warble at the glassy wetness in the other girl’s eyes.

She takes Tifa’s hand and lets herself be helped up, leaning into the touch slightly when Tifa places a comforting hand back on her shoulder.

“I guess you did.” 

The tone of her voice is notably weaker, and Tifa bites down on the inside of her lower lip. What happened, to throw her off in such a noticeable way?

There’s no time to talk or think, as the darkness is rushing around them and coalescing into a ball in the center of the empty lot. Tifa falls into her form on instinct and feels Aerith draw herself together behind her.

_ Who are you, and why do I feel like I already know you so well? _

**♡♡♡**

The support pillar is lit up in gunfire.

Tifa swallows around the rock in her throat. Her eyes refuse to leave the sight, unable to tear away from the magnetic pull of horrified confirmation.

Aerith’s hands are oddly warm against her arm, resting there in a silent attempt at comfort. Tifa can’t bring herself to speak, let alone look away, but it’s...it’s…

It feels as though the stray thought should have no place here, here among the terror and bloodshed that is undoubtedly happening up above.

But it’s been awhile since she’s been touched so tenderly.

**♡♡♡**

“Go. Follow your heart.”

Something glints in Aerith’s eyes as she says it, something sweet, but a little sad. There’s no time to worry about anything else but the plate. There’s no time to...to…

Before her thoughts can pull her any further astray, Tifa forces her feet to move.  _ Protect, protect, protect, _ whisper the sibilant voices in her mind.  _ Sector 7 is in danger and it’s all  _ your  _ fault. _

_ Oh-!! _

“Aerith!” She whirls around, taking a step closer to the other girl. “There’s a bar at the center of town-Seventh Heaven. I need you to-”

“Get Marlene to safety. Right?” Aerith smiles, small and sweet. Something lies underneath it, some other emotion that would be fear or worry on anyone else, but on her face is simply...is simply…

“It’s okay. I’ll find her.”

Things like ‘how’, and ‘why’, and ‘what for’, must fall aside in the service of greater worries. Another swell of panic lies quelled by the quiet steadiness of Aerith’s voice, by the simple faith that this girl who she has known for mere hours will not let a child be harmed.

The lump in her throat remains, but this tension is different. Aerith’s smile does not falter, even as Tifa meets her gaze in disbelief.

_ I… _

Stepping forward, she pulls Aerith’s slender hands into her own, holding them firm. The places that are not callused are soft and smooth. The hands of a princess, as it were.

There are no words. All she can do is nod, and hope Aerith can feel some of the warmth that seems as though it must be leaking out of her in its intensity. Just a little bit of the gratitude, for the woman who’s already done so much for her and hers.

It stays in Tifa’s mind as she runs for the pillar, the positively beatific smile that crosses Aerith’s face, just before she lets go.

...It’s like being prodded with needles, to see that same face staring back at them, marred with ash and grime, staring helplessly through the sickly green tinted lens. It’s like a physical blow, to see the Shinra grunts manhandle the girl she’s unconsciously dared to call ‘friend’.

_ Aerith...I… _

_ I did this to you, didn’t I. _

**♡♡♡**

Aerith’s house appears as if lifted off the page of one of Marlene’s storybooks, something crafted in a fantasy and tended to by faeries and nymphs.

Elmyra’s human face almost seems jarring with the rest of the little sanctuary carved out of the Sector 5 rubble, but the longer Tifa looks at her the more that feeling fades away. Ms. Gainsborough is certainly the proprietor of this place, the stewardess of a homestead that hardly seems as if it belongs in Midgar at all.

The whole place, house and garden and all, practically  _ sings _ with Aerith’s touch. The presence of a cheerful figure seems as if it must be just a breath away at all times, around some daintily shadowed corner, or just in the next room attending to the plants on the windowsill.

Not...a thousand feet above, locked in some sort of Shinra prison.

Marlene is sleeping soundly in Aerith’s room, tucked in and slumbering away peacefully. She’s still sleeping when they get back from their underground misadventure carrying Wedge’s prone form, barely having moved an inch. She does wake when they’re trying to get him settled in the guest room, and even Barret’s too worn out to try to tuck her back in straight away afterwards.

Elmyra makes a light meal for them, regardless of the fact it must be several hours after midnight. It’s not much, some sandwiches and a creamy soup that, had the situation been literally anything else, would have had Tifa asking for seconds.

As it stands, once Marlene has been coaxed back to sleep, and Barret and Cloud soon after, Tifa finds herself standing by the window in Aerith’s room. It has an excellent view of the garden, which is lit eerily by the stray street lamps that glow throughout. 

She treads softly, so as not to make the floor creak unduly. The room is filled with Aerith everywhere she looks, from the framed photographs of seasonal blooms to the extra pair of hiking boots by the wardrobe. The books on the bookshelf are just what she would have envisioned, tomes on gardening printed and bound far outside of Midgar, leaflets labeled with poetry, and several volumes on floriography.

Some cosmetics are scattered across the humble vanity, and Tifa idly notes that Aerith must be one of the girls who taste like cherries, judging from the brand of the lip balm sitting there. 

It’s an odd thought, and feels almost callous considering what Aerith’s position must be right now. A sour feeling coils in her throat, and Tifa banishes the thought with all the concentration she can muster. 

But, as always, one thought leads to another.

If Jessie were here, she would’ve commented on it. The sour feeling intensifies into a low and ragged sob, and Tifa buries her face in her hands. 

_ Jessie...Biggs… _

_ The entirety of Sector 7, both above and below. _

Sobs threaten to turn themselves into wails, and it’s with a low gasp that Tifa tries to regulate her breathing, chest shuddering with the intensity. It would be bad if she woke Marlene up.

There will be a time for grief after Shinra has paid their dues. 

_ Jessie smiles mischievously down at her. “Woman up, Tifa! How can you look the president in the eye and tell him to suck some ass if you don’t stop crying?” _

_ Biggs’s laughter joins in. “Ease up Jess, does that really sound like Tifa’s style?” _

With a start, Tifa flinches and the voices around her fade, the ringing in her ears suddenly an all-consuming sound. She is most certainly alone, in Aerith’s darkened and empty room, and everyone else in the house is asleep.

She flees, out the front door and to the garden, where no one can hear her struggling to breathe through her sobs.

_ Aerith...I know you’re calling out for us. We were the ones who endangered you, and whatever anyone else says, we’ll take responsibility and come to save you. _

_ We’re coming. We won’t be long. _

**♡♡♡**

The ordeal of getting up the tower of Shinra’s HQ is well worth it, to see Aerith standing in a glass cage like a figurette, visibly unharmed.

The sigh of relief that Tifa heaves feels like a basket of rocks falling off her shoulders and fading away, some deep set worry that has now been brought to complacency. The fear that has dogged them every step of the way up is no more, even if new trials arise in their place.

Here in the heart of Shinra’s power, the battles are fierce, and there is new muscle and motor around every corner to impede them. It’s either a miracle that they’ve made it this far intact, or someone in the weapons department needs to up their game.

Even so, once they finally have a moment to breathe, it’s but a few steps to rush to Aerith’s side and look her up and down for injuries. A few breathless moments to inquire after her, and be subsequently treated to one of her bright smiles.

And then the next little while decides to be as confounding as possible, from the introduction to the escaped feline....uh, canine? To Cloud’s collapse not a few moments after.

The four of them, excluding Cloud, are silent as Aerith guides them to her old room. Better to not make any noise than risk drawing even more attention. It’s an easy thing to grasp but even so, questions burn at the front of Tifa’s throat. They fade slightly, with every moment that Aerith continues to be safe.

But they’re far from out yet. They’re still in the heart of the lion’s den.

_ It’s odd...there’s a burning in my chest, and it’s not from all the running earlier. _

Aerith looks up at the painted wall in her room, at the childish scrawl mingled with a more practised hand, at the colors and shapes that blend together to make a rainbow of sensical chaos, and Tifa begins to understand what it is when poets speak of having a ‘muse’. 

“Someday, maybe I’ll find it in me. But now? Not even if I wanted to.”

Her smile droops slightly, and for a single moment, it becomes easy to see the burden that sits on her shoulders.  _ Human. Cetra. Human. Other. _

She...she looks like she needs a hug.

Even more so, as the so-called ‘Whispers’ begin swarming around the room. With every pass and twitch and turn of the spectral oddities, Aerith’s ever present smile falls a little further. Her voice becomes firmer, impassioned, and she squares her slender shoulders with dignity.

“Aerith. What are you not telling us?” It’s a question that has been begging for an answer for a while now, the more that Tifa thinks about it. 

Something in her clenches, when Aerith’s response is to shake her head, either in dismissal or…

“I’m lost in a maze, and...every step is taking me further from the path. Every time the Whispers touch me, I lose something. A part of myself.” Her voice quavers, and the Whispers swirl ever-closer.

Tifa takes a step forward on instinct.

The smile that crosses Aerith’s face is melancholic. “Follow them. The yellow flowers.” 

As the words ring out, the Whispers suddenly crescendo into a flurry. Aerith cowers in response, and her arms fly up to shield her face. 

There is no hesitation.

She darts forward, seizes Aerith’s arm, and tugs her out of the circle. Aerith lets herself be pulled with a hitch in her breath, stumbling towards her with wide eyes.

“It’s okay.” Aerith has given her so many bright smiles already. It’s the least she can do to try to offer one in return, even if it can’t quite match that same brilliance. “We’ll find a way out together.”

Aerith’s lips part, as if in a gasp, but she recovers quickly. Her other hand reaches up to rest against Tifa’s, pressing gently. 

“Okay.” She glows like the sun, even when still breathless and unsettled. It’s an honor, Tifa thinks, just to bask in her rays for a moment longer.

It is the last moment of peace for the next long while. 

**♡♡♡**

The sun falls across Aerith’s face like a caress made out of golden taffeta. 

It’s hard to look away, when the woman is lit up in all the shades of a sunset. The amber, of gold light through the glass of the window glancing off the planes of her face, the ruby sheen on her lips, the pale rose of her cheeks and dress. 

They made it to Kalm in only a day or two of travel, but even after only two nights of camping, sleeping in a real bed again is a blessing. It’s a balm on Tifa’s sore muscles, which are still protesting after the events of the battle in the Other-Midgar.

The others are elsewhere, Cloud and Barret surveying the local weapon vendors and Red XIII curled up in the room they’d rented. Apparently, the square of sunlight by the window left him feeling a bit drowsy.

Aerith has been sitting in the inn’s parlor downstairs, perched on one of the chairs by the window and looking out to the street outside. It is late afternoon, and the sunshine must be very bright to one who has lived under the plate most of their life.

_ The sun in Nibelheim was bright, but never quite warm. It shone far above, removed from earthly homily. It wasn’t warm at all...not like the --fire.-- _

Tifa banishes those dreary and painful thoughts with a shake of her head, and steps forward from where she’d been lingering in the doorway.

“Aerith?”

She raises her head, and the motion makes her chestnut hair glow auburn. “...mm?” Her smile lights up at the sight of Tifa, as though she’d been lost in thought the moment before. “What’s up?”

Gingerly, Tifa allows herself to perch on the edge of the chair next to her. “I wanted to ask how you were feeling. I know it’s been a rough few days and…”

Aerith’s already shaking her head, smile glowing as bright as the rays flickering through the window. “No need to worry about me, Tifa.” Her head tilts to the side, and a corner of her mouth twists mischievously. “You do remember I lived in Sector 5, right?”

“...right.” Tifa allows herself a tiny sigh. “I just...I still feel bad for dragging you into all this but…” Carefully, she wets her lips, and feels herself blush self-consciously as Aerith’s eyes track the motion. “Call me crazy, but do you think you’d have ended up with us either way? We defeated the Whispers, but before that…”

For a moment, Aerith is still. It’s impossible to look away from her, from her improbably perfect skin, and the eyes flickering with a thousand things that will not be said. The light from the window paints a picture of austere warmth, something so close and yet very far away.

For a moment, Tifa is flooded with a reminder of that  _ otherness, _ that no matter how human Aerith may appear, she is slightly different then them. There is something that binds her to this planet that does not touch anyone else. That she’s…

Aerith blinks, gnaws on her lower lip, and the spell is broken. “I...I’m glad it ended up this way.” It’s not an answer to Tifa’s question.

“How...do you mean?” It seems unthinkable that Aerith would rather be roughing it with two homeless vigilantes, a surly mercenary, and an escaped lab experiment than back at home, safe and sound with her mother in their little corner of paradise.

“Because this way I get to hang out with you!” Aerith leans forward and beams, and Tifa finds herself flushing on instinct. Whatever her path in life has been up to now, Aerith has certainly perfected the art of how to disarm anyone with a bright smile and a wink.

She is...she is an exceptionally pretty woman. Anyone could see that, from her shapely face and elegant figure, and enough vivacity to fill up an entire room. It’s enough to make one feel plain and somewhat dour by comparison from simply standing next to her.

_ Whoever ends up being her lover...they’re lucky. _

“Tifa?”

Tifa starts, and realizes she’s been staring at Aerith’s lips for a long moment without saying anything. “Y-yes?” She rises to her feet, adjusting one of her suspenders that doesn’t really need straightening. “We should probably rendezvous with the others. It’s almost dinnertime, we could grab a quick bite somewhere and-”

Suddenly, her elbow is caught up, and Aerith casually slots her arm over Tifa’s. “Sure, I’d love to get dinner with you, Tifa!”

Vaguely aware she must be doing an excellent impression of a chocobo in the headlights, Tifa blinks in surprise at her. “I…”

“Come on!” Aerith leans even closer, and  _ winks.  _ “We can have girltalk! I don’t know about you, but I’m  _ dying _ to go window shopping around here.”

“Window shopping?” Tifa finds herself being tugged along and towards the door to the inn, but the drive to put up any resistance simply isn’t there. “What would we even window shop for?”

“Anything and everything! I’ve never been to this town before, so who knows what we could find.” Aerith spares her a glance, and one of those coy little grins. “Besides, didn’t you promise me a date? It’s not like we’ll be headed back to Midgar anytime soon, sooo...”

It’s as if she can physically feel the blood spreading across her cheeks and the tips of her ears and painting them a flushed pink. “I…” Tifa clears her throat, and unconsciously tries to stand a little straighter. “I suppose I did.” She smiles at Aerith, as best she can through the layers of flusteredness this girl keeps laying upon her. 

“That’s the spirit!” Aerith’s ensuing smile is positively delighted, grinning from ear to ear. She holds the door open for Tifa politely, and Tifa allows herself to be hurried out and onto the street.

A world without destiny...a life without design. Aerith keeps her arm slung around Tifa’s elbow as they walk, tugging her across the street forward into a little shop with decorative teapots in the window display.

It’s certainly a lot to think about. Even as Aerith oohs and ahhs over a hand painted tea set, covered in scarlet roses and shimmering stars, it’s difficult to look at any of the delicate wares when she has Aerith so close to her.

What was it she had said? About...the future not being set in stone. Anything could happen, at any moment. Fate was a force that could apparently be bested, but Time suffers no master. 

Everyone has something that they want to protect. Something that they would fight for, whether they know it or not. An ambition, a friend or a family member, a deep seated ideal.  _ Something, _ that is able to inspire a depth of strength to push back against fear and bare their teeth at the sky.

She might be without blood family, or even a hometown. Her true friends are far and few between. Her place of residence and business have been destroyed, leaving only the distant hope of building something better. The most powerful company in the world wants her dead, and who knows what else will try to stand in their path of desiring a better future.

But there are things that make such odds worth fighting for. There is Marlene’s innocent smile, unsullied by age. There is Barret’s laugh, loud and booming when he is truly at ease. There are Marle’s impassioned but good-intentioned lectures, on everything and anything. There is Cloud’s gentle pout when she teases him, and the softness around his eyes that betrays the fact he’s smiling internally. The list goes on, a kaleidoscope of all the things behind why she raises her fists against an overwhelming world.

As Aerith points out a little teacup with violets painted over the rim, giggling over how darling it is, Tifa quietly adds her to the list.

_ I...I hope we can do this again. I really do. _

_ Yeah...when it’s all over, it would be nice to be in the stillness with you. _

  
  



End file.
